The Song Of Pan
Mad with love and laden
With immortal pain,
Pan pursued a maiden--
Pan, the god--in vain.
For when Pan had nearly
Touched her, wild to plead,
She was gone--and clearly
In her place a reed!
Long the god, unwitting,
Through the valley strayed;
Then at last, submitting,
Cut the reed, and made,
Deftly fashioned, seven
Pipes, and poured his pain
Unto earth and heaven
In a piercing strain.
So with god and poet;
Beauty lures them on,
Flies, and ere they know it
Like a wraith is gone.
Then they seek to borrow
Pleasure still from wrong,
And with smiling sorrow
Turn it to a song.
poem by Archibald Lampman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
When a Merry Maiden Marries
When a merry maiden marries,
Sorrow goes and pleasure tarries;
Every sound becomes a song,
All is right and nothing's wrong!
From to-day and ever after
Let your tears be tears of laughter -
Every sigh that finds a vent
Be a sigh of sweet content!
When you marry merry maiden,
Then the air with love is laden;
Every flower is a rose,
Every goose becomes a swan,
Every kind of trouble goes
Where the last year's snows have gone;
Sunlight takes the place of shade
When you marry merry maid!
When a merry maiden marries
Sorrow goes and pleasure tarries;
Every sound becomes a song,
All is right, and nothing's wrong.
Gnawing Care and aching Sorrow,
Get ye gone until to-morrow;
Jealousies in grim array,
Ye are things of yesterday!
When you marry merry maiden,
Then the air with joy is laden;
All the corners of the earth
Ring with music sweetly played,
Worry is melodious mirth,
Grief is joy in masquerade;
Sullen night is laughing day -
All the year is merry May!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Hunt within
I,
Smile, to my audience
Bow before my pain.
Sing the song of loneliness
mask it with a laugh in vain.
If only you could see; this pain does not have to be.
The hands I feel grasp my chest,
The piercing screams inside,
I know that I'm just prey walking in the hunters grasp, asking for the pain.
But although I feel my strain I know it is not in vain,
So I,
Smile, to my audience
Bow before my pain.
Sing the song of loneliness
Mask it with a laugh in vain.
I feel myself slipping, evil greed poisoning the good; maybe I'm just blind.
I'm the hunter in the dark
The lurk of a selfish need,
I cannot bear to hurt someone else, I can only hurt me.
So I,
Smile, to my audience
Bow before my pain.
Sing the song of loneliness
Mask it with a laugh in vain.
Just the want to feel loved, is making me a monster.
I'm the scratches in my heart
I slowly go insane.
I have no way to walk away; my howl is in a strain,
But I,
Smile, to my audience
Bow before my pain.
Sing the song of loneliness
Mask it with a laugh in vain.
Hope you will see through this mask,
And save what's left of the heart I stained.
poem by April Swan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love's wild waves
Believe my every word
Love's wild waves are in my blood
I forget when we meet
The pain created by it
You can turn this pain into so much pleasure
That no one in heaven and earth can measure
Baby it's up to you
All I want is to woo
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sufi
A broken reed. No longer
its feet in earth, its stalk in water;
what will become of it?
Taken by grace; cut; shaped
into new name, new form;
breathed into it, the breath of life;
the breath, heard by a song
unmanifest, that waits to be born
from cause to mind to sound:
how can this sound be described,
the joy of broken reed now flute?
Now the reed can sing; speaks
of how it cried its loss;
yearned to find itself again;
knowing in its heart
that wholeness waits, somewhere, for ever;
now it sings for joy, so purely that
no ears, no heart, can resist its call;
nevermore to part the reed, the flute, the song.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Immortal
BEAUTY is still immortal in our eyes;
When sways no more the spirit-haunted reed,
When the wild grape shall build
No more her canopies,
When blows no more the moon-gray thistle seed,
When the last bell has lulled the white flocks home,
When the last eve has stilled
The wandering wing and touched the dying foam,
When the last moon burns low, and, spark by spark,
The little worlds die out along the dark,–
Beauty that rosed the moth-wing, touched the land
With clover-horns and delicate faint flowers,
Beauty that bade the showers
Beat on the violet's face,
Shall hold the eternal heavens within their place
And hear new stars come singing from God's hand.
poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Joy In Joy
God has created everything in twain
Life - Death
Love - Hate
Joy - Pain
And
Now i crave for the other side
Cuz everything has its joy
Joy has its joy
And
Even pain has its joy
But what everyone looks for
Is the joy of joy
But i seek for the pain
The Sweetness in Pain
Pain in Silence
Silence in Loneliness
Loneliness in Joy
Cuz everything has its Joy!
Joy in joy can only be stong
If after the aeons of pain
A ray of mirth shines
So joy is even incomplete without pain, sorrow etc.
And so i plead to God
Fill my soul with bitterness
Fill my life with Pain
And rest of the quest
I will search my self
poem by Vishal Kumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Lesson In Pain
pain is a weapon of self destruction
pain should be kept to yourself
wave it around for others to see and your only generating more pain
pain for sympathy?
theres no honor in that
fight your pain
dont let it control a single action
dont wallow in it
feed your pain and you are lost
if you love, love honestly
while u live, live realistically
no fairy tales. reality.
A Musical Instrument
What was he doing, the great god Pan,
Down in the reeds by the river?
Spreading ruin and scattering ban,
Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat,
And breaking the golden lilies afloat
With the dragon-fly on the river.
He tore out a reed, the great god Pan,
From the deep cool bed of the river:
The limpid water turbidly ran,
And the broken lilies a-dying lay,
And the dragon-fly had fled away,
Ere he brought it out of the river.
High on the shore sat the great god Pan
While turbidly flowed the river;
And hacked and hewed as a great god can,
With his hard bleak steel at the patient reed,
Till there was not a sign of the leaf indeed
To prove it fresh from the river.
He cut it short, did the great god Pan,
(How tall it stood in the river!)
Then drew the pith, like the heart of a man,
Steadily from the outside ring,
And notched the poor dry empty thing
In holes, as he sat by the river.
'This is the way,' laughed the great god Pan
(Laughed while he sat by the river),
'The only way, since gods began
To make sweet music, they could succeed.'
Then, dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed,
He blew in power by the river.
Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan!
Piercing sweet by the river!
Blinding sweet, O great god Pan!
The sun on the hill forgot to die,
And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly
Came back to dream on the river.
Yet half a beast is the great god Pan,
To laugh as he sits by the river,
Making a poet out of a man:
The true gods sigh for the cost and pain, --
For the reed which grows nevermore again
As a reed with the reeds in the river.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Splendour And The Curse Of Song
Methought the unknown God we seek in vain
Grew weary of the evil He had wrought—
The piteous litanies of human pain—
Till here and there some lonely souls He sought
To bear the message of Immortal Thought,
And sent them forth to wander ’midst the throng
Crowned with the splendour and the curse of Song.
But that which still was kindred to the stars
Fought with the flesh and moaned within its cell,
And beat its wings against its prison bars.
Thus, soaring oft to heights sublime, they fell,
Dragged by the flesh into the gulfs of hell;
Till all their days were as a tumult long
Between the splendour and the curse of Song.
Yet often ’mid the fever of distress
Some singer’s lips would chant so sweet a strain
That storm-tossed souls forgot their weariness,
And comfort crept about the bed of pain,
And men took heart and dreamt of heaven again;
And to the weak came hope and courage strong
Born of the beauty and the balm of Song.
But Life was bitter to the lips that sung;
And heavier on those souls the curse did grow
Who strove to speak to men an unknown tongue,
And mournfully their hearts did weigh and know
The measure of the whole world’s cruel woe,
And wearily they fared Time’s path along
Vexed by the splendour and the curse of Song.
Theirs was the homeless hunger of the heart—
Immortal thought within a mortal breast,
Listless they wandered through the crowded mart,
Who to a careless world had given their best;
And when Death lulled them with his wings to rest
What reeked they where they slumbered calm and strong
Crowned with the splendour of Immortal Song?
poem by George Essex Evans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Discretion
AH, turn your pretty eyes away!
You would not have me love again?
Love's pleasure does not live a day,
Immortal is Love's pain,
And I am tired of pain.
I have loved once--aye, once or twice;
The pleasure died, the pain lives here;
I will not look in your sweet eyes,
I will not love you, Dear,
Lest you should grow too dear.
For I am weary and afraid.
Have I not seen why life was fair,
And known how good a world God made,
How sweet the blossoms were,
How dear the green fields were?
And I have found how life was gray,
A mist-hung road, a quest in vain,
Until once more Love smiled my way
And fooled me once again,
And taught me grief again.
Now I will gather no more grief;
I only ask to see the sky,
The budding flower, the budding leaf,
And put old dreamings by,
The dreams Love tortures by.
For, being wise, I love no more;
You, if you will, snare with those eyes
Some fool who never loved before,
And teach him to be wise!
For why should you be wise?
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Pain (lyrics)
Regret sits heavy in your chest until sometimes it gets so hard to breathe
Sometimes it just wont go away and you start to feel you will never be
And when you think back on those times it seems so close just beyond your reach
Until past vanishes like smoke from a cigarette in the night breeze
Please stop this pain
Hurt for so long
Pain
Hurt for so long
I've felt this way for so long
How is it that things turn out this way?
What you hold most dear has come and gone
Seems the time that everything was right
Now it just feels wrong, oh so wrong
And your still dreaming of the time
When the day will come, it was meant to be
And your still dreaming of the way
To reach that place that you've never been
Please stop this pain
Hurt for so long
Pain
Hurt for so long
I've felt this way for so long
Pain
Hurt for so long
Pain
Hurt for so long
Pain
Hurt for so long
Pain
Hurt for so long
I've felt this way for so long
poem by Satan's Sibling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Only a Simple Rhyme
Only a simple rhyme of love and sorrow,
Where 'blisses' rhymed with 'kisses,' 'heart,' with 'dart:'
Yet, reading it, new strength I seemed to borrow,
To live on bravely and to do my part.
A little rhyme about a heart that's bleeding—
Of lonely hours and sorrow's unrelief:
I smiled at first; but there came with the reading
A sense of sweet companionship in grief.
The selfishness of my own woe forsaking,
I thought about the singer of that song.
Some other breast felt this same weary aching;
Another found the summer days too long.
The few sad lines, my sorrow so expressing,
I read, and on the singer, all unknown,
I breathed a fervent though a silent blessing,
And seemed to clasp his hand within my own.
And though fame pass him and he never know it,
And though he never sings another strain,
He has performed the mission of the poet,
In helping some sad heart to bear its pain.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Periodicity
My friend declares
Being woman and virgin she
Takes small account of periodicity
And she is right.
Her days are calmly spent
For her sex-function is irrelevant.
But I whose life
Is monthly broke in twain
Must seek some sort of meaning in my pain.
Women, I say,
Are beautiful in change,
Remote, immortal, like the moon they range.
Or call my pain
A skirmish in the whole
Tremendous conflict between body and soul.
Meaning must lie,
Some beauty surely dwell
In the fierce depths and uttermost pits of hell.
Yet still I seek,
Month after month in vain,
Meaning and beauty in recurrent pain.
poem by Lesbia Harford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Supposing Tomorrow
Whenever I think of the supposing tomorrow
I think of a day without pain and sorrow
Where all bright ray and sunshine
Will appear as all yours and mines
Where all the skies will be free of clouds
And all men's heart will be free of doubts
And every one will be given the share
Of joy and sorrow, smile and tear
And there I wish in the supposing tomorrow
Everyone will be ready to lend and borrow
the flowers of the blooming smile
And fains new ways and bright styles
Where no one will be left alone to sigh
Or fight with sorrow's place taht're high
And no one will be forced to lay
Sorrow's brick one by one with the hay
And I wish I can live taht long
So I can also recieve with song
The day when there'll be no pain and sorrow
Yes ofcourse I'm talking of the supposing tomorrow.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Separate Ways
Here we stand
Worlds apart, hearts broken in two, two, two
Sleepless nights
Losing ground
I'm reaching for you, you, you
Feelin' that it's gone
Can change your mind
If we can't go on
To survive the tide love divides
Someday love will find you
Break those chains that bind you
One night will remind you
How we touched
And went our separate ways
If he ever hurts you
True love won't desert you
You know i still love you
Though we touched
And went our separate ways
Troubled times
Caught between confusions and pain, pain, pain
Distant eyes
Promises we made were in vain, vain, vain
If you must go, i wish you love
You'll never walk alone
Take care my love
Miss you love
(chorus twice)
I still love you girl
I really love you girl
And if he ever hurts you
True love won't desert you
No, no
song performed by by Journey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Pain I Can Control
The pain I can control
The pain that makes me whole
The pain that stops and brings some tears
The pain that erases all my fears
The pain that I inflict with this knife
The pain that might be last in my life
The pain that brought me to my knees
The pain that woahed me full of pleas
The pain that made me see the light
The pain that is bringing me home tonight
The pain that is wrong and bitter
The pain that makes me feel fitter
The pain that my friends say is wrong
The pain that makes me feel so strong
The pain that makes my friend sad, and cry
The pain that makes her want to die
The pain thats not just pain to me
The pain that makes everyone see
The pain that thats tearing me apart
The pain thats ripping apart my heart
The pain that I'm addicted to
The pain I can't give up. Not even for you..
Primal
Krew Boylan, Ch'aska Cuba de Reed, Santiago Cuba de Reed, Lindsay Farris, Rebekah Foord
by Josh Reed from Primal (2009)
Submitted by Film Fan
Vote! | Copy!
The Vanity of All Worldly Things
As he said vanity, so vain say I,
Oh! Vanity, O vain all under sky;
Where is the man can say, "Lo, I have found
On brittle earth a consolation sound"?
What isn't in honor to be set on high?
No, they like beasts and sons of men shall die,
And whilst they live, how oft doth turn their fate;
He's now a captive that was king of late.
What isn't in wealth great treasures to obtain?
No, that's but labor, anxious care, and pain.
He heaps up riches, and he heaps up sorrow,
It's his today, but who's his heir tomorrow?
What then? Content in pleasures canst thou find?
More vain than all, that's but to grasp the wind.
The sensual senses for a time they pleasure,
Meanwhile the conscience rage, who shall appease?
What isn't in beauty? No that's but a snare,
They're foul enough today, that once were fair.
What is't in flow'ring youth, or manly age?
The first is prone to vice, the last to rage.
Where is it then, in wisdom, learning, arts?
Sure if on earth, it must be in those parts;
Yet these the wisest man of men did find
But vanity, vexation of the mind.
And he that know the most doth still bemoan
He knows not all that here is to be known.
What is it then? To do as stoics tell,
Nor laugh, nor weep, let things go ill or well?
Such stoics are but stocks, such teaching vain,
While man is man, he shall have ease or pain.
If not in honor, beauty, age, nor treasure,
Nor yet in learning, wisdom, youth, nor pleasure,
Where shall I climb, sound, seek, search, or find
That summum bonum which may stay my mind?
There is a path no vulture's eye hath seen,
Where lion fierce, nor lion's whelps have been,
Which leads unto that living crystal fount,
Who drinks thereof, the world doth naught account.
The depth and sea have said " 'tis not in me,"
With pearl and gold it shall not valued be.
For sapphire, onyx, topaz who would change;
It's hid from eyes of men, they count it strange.
Death and destruction the fame hath heard,
But where and what it is, from heaven's declared;
It brings to honor which shall ne'er decay,
It stores with wealth which time can't wear away.
It yieldeth pleasures far beyond conceit,
And truly beautifies without deceit.
Nor strength, nor wisdom, nor fresh youth shall fade,
Nor death shall see, but are immortal made.
This pearl of price, this tree of life, this spring,
Who is possessed of shall reign a king.
Nor change of state nor cares shall ever see,
But wear his crown unto eternity.
This satiates the soul, this stays the mind,
And all the rest, but vanity we find.
poem by Anne Bradstreet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Vanity of All Worldly Things, The
As he said vanity, so vain say I,
Oh! Vanity, O vain all under sky;
Where is the man can say, "Lo, I have found
On brittle earth a consolation sound"?
What isn't in honor to be set on high?
No, they like beasts and sons of men shall die,
And whilst they live, how oft doth turn their fate;
He's now a captive that was king of late.
What isn't in wealth great treasures to obtain?
No, that's but labor, anxious care, and pain.
He heaps up riches, and he heaps up sorrow,
It's his today, but who's his heir tomorrow?
What then? Content in pleasures canst thou find?
More vain than all, that's but to grasp the wind.
The sensual senses for a time they pleasure,
Meanwhile the conscience rage, who shall appease?
What isn't in beauty? No that's but a snare,
They're foul enough today, that once were fair.
What is't in flow'ring youth, or manly age?
The first is prone to vice, the last to rage.
Where is it then, in wisdom, learning, arts?
Sure if on earth, it must be in those parts;
Yet these the wisest man of men did find
But vanity, vexation of the mind.
And he that know the most doth still bemoan
He knows not all that here is to be known.
What is it then? To do as stoics tell,
Nor laugh, nor weep, let things go ill or well?
Such stoics are but stocks, such teaching vain,
While man is man, he shall have ease or pain.
If not in honor, beauty, age, nor treasure,
Nor yet in learning, wisdom, youth, nor pleasure,
Where shall I climb, sound, seek, search, or find
That summum bonum which may stay my mind?
There is a path no vulture's eye hath seen,
Where lion fierce, nor lion's whelps have been,
Which leads unto that living crystal fount,
Who drinks thereof, the world doth naught account.
The depth and sea have said " 'tis not in me,"
With pearl and gold it shall not valued be.
For sapphire, onyx, topaz who would change;
It's hid from eyes of men, they count it strange.
Death and destruction the fame hath heard,
But where and what it is, from heaven's declared;
It brings to honor which shall ne'er decay,
It stores with wealth which time can't wear away.
It yieldeth pleasures far beyond conceit,
And truly beautifies without deceit.
Nor strength, nor wisdom, nor fresh youth shall fade,
Nor death shall see, but are immortal made.
This pearl of price, this tree of life, this spring,
Who is possessed of shall reign a king.
Nor change of state nor cares shall ever see,
But wear his crown unto eternity.
This satiates the soul, this stays the mind,
And all the rest, but vanity we find.
poem by Anne Bradstreet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
This Aint A Love Song
I should have seen it coming when roses died
Should have seen the end of summer in your eyes
I should have listened when you said good night
You really meant good bye
Baby, aint it funny, how you never ever learn to fall
Youre really on your knees, when you think youre standing tall
But only fools are know-it-alls and I played that fool for you
I cried and I cried
There were nights that died for you baby
I tried and I tried to deny that your love drove me crazy, baby
If the love that I got for you is gone
If the river I cried aint that long
Then Im wrong, yeah Im wrong, this aint a love song
Baby, I thought you and me would stand the test of time
Like we got away with the perfect crime but
We were just a legend in my mind
I guess that I was blind
Remember those nights dancing at the masquerade
The clowns wore smiles that wouldnt fade
You and I were the renegades, some things never change
It made me so mad cause I wanted it bad for us baby
Now its so sad that whatever we had, aint worth saving
If the love that I got for you is gone
If the river Ive cried aint that long
Then Im wrong, yes Im wrong, this aint a love song
If the pain that Im feeling so strong
Is the reason that Im holding on
Then Im wrong, yeah Im wrong - this aint a love song
I cried and I cried
There were nights that I died for you baby
I tried and I tried to deny that your love drove me crazy
If the love that I got for you is gone
If the river I cried aint that long
Then Im wrong, yeah Im wrong - this aint no love song
If the pain that Im feeling so strong
Is the reason that Im holding on
Then Im wrong, yeah Im wrong - this aint a love song
If the pain that Im feeling so strong
Is the reason that Im holding on
Then Im wrong, yeah Im wrong - this aint a love song
Yes, Im wrong, yeah, Im wrong - this aint a love song
Yes, Im wrong, yeah, Im wrong - this aint a love song
Yes, Im wrong, yeah, Im wrong - this aint a love song
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!